The Night Before
by JenniGellerBing
Summary: Ron's leaving in the morning. What could happen when he finds Hermione in the Hog's Head? RHr


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Disclaimer: Everything here belongs to the amazing, brilliant, outstanding J.K. Rowling. I am simply borrowing it to while away the long hours before book 6.

The Night Before

"I'm leaving in the morning."

Hermione blinked and looked around at Ron, who had just situated himself on the barstool next to her. "I know," she said, raising her eyebrows and looking down at her watery butterbeer and brandy.

"Can I get a gin and gillywater?" Ron asked the bartender, before turning back to Hermione. "So..."

Hermione didn't say anything.

"So your best mate is leaving on some suicide mission to Merlin-knows-where and you don't even have the decency to come wish him a good bye, eh?" Ron asked lightly.

"That's not funny."

"What?"

"Suicide mission. That's not funny." Hermione bit her lip.

"Oh - I know - I'm sorry," Ron said quickly.

"Because you're not going to die," Hermione continued. "They wouldn't - they wouldn't send you somewhere where you could die - "

"Well, I could always die, Hermione," Ron said sensibly. Hermione stared at her drink, ignoring him. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, anyways." Hermione looked up at him and saw that his hair was sticking up from having run his hands through it so often.

"Are you worried?"

"A bit, yeah," Ron said. "I mean, it's not exactly routine, is it, infiltrating a band of Death Eaters?"

"No, it isn't." Hermione picked up her drink and swiftly downed it.

"Thirsty?" Ron said jokingly.

"No, trying to get drunk," Hermione said, giving him a tight smile.

"Brutally honest," Ron said, grinning. "But why?"

"Because my best mate is leaving on a suicide mission to Merlin-knows-where and I'm afraid he's not going to come back," Hermione whispered, startled to find her eyes filling with tears. She turned away quickly.

"Oh - hell - Hermione," He reached out tentatively and put his hand on her arm. She looked at his hand and focused on the tiny freckles on his knuckles before the freckles blurred and she couldn't see. Her tears dropped, one, two, three, on the wooden bar. "Look, I'll be fine - "

"But what if you aren't?" she hissed. "Do you know what it's like to watch you go off all the time and not know if I'm ever going to see you again?"

"No, I - "

"No, you don't." Hermione pulled her hand away from his as the bartender set his gin and gillywater in front of him. Ron took a sip and then look back at Hermione who was angrily brushing tears from her cheeks.

"I didn't know it made you so upset."

"Well usually no one tracks me down in the Hog's Head," Hermione said.

"How come you never told me?"

"Because you'd feel bad and you wouldn't want to go. I'd never ask you not to go, Ron," Hermione said seriously. "I know you love your job. I'd never ask you to stop. So if I have to be a nervous wreck once in a while, so be it." She waved down the bartender. "Can I get a firewhiskey?"

"Make it two," Ron said. "So, what, do you just come here and get drunk before I go out?" He seemed slightly angry - angry with Hermione for keeping everything inside and with himself for never asking.

"Basically," Hermione admitted.

"Does it make it better?"

"No," Hermione said honestly. "But it makes it bearable." The bartender handed them their firewhiskeys and she uncorked hers, holding it up. "Cheers." Ron clinked his glass to hers and they both took long swigs. The firewhiskey burned from the inside but did nothing to stop the coldness filling Hermione.

"If it helps - I don't like leaving either. I - I miss you when I'm gone," Ron said.

"That doesn't help," Hermione choked. It took her a moment before she realized she was going to cry again.

"Hermione - "

"I'm sorry," she burst out. "Look, you shouldn't have to sit here and listen to a stupid girl blubber on - go on, find Harry or your brothers, have some fun or - or something." Hermione downed the last of her firewhiskey and jumped off the barstool, spluttering on the acidic drink. She tore through the seedy bar and out into the street. Icy wind whipped her hair around her head and she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling hot tears cascading down her face.

"Hermione." The door to the Hog's Head opened again and Ron came out. He stood behind her as her shoulders shook with sobs she valiantly attempted to suppress. "Hermione, please don't cry."

"How can I not cry?" she shouted. "When you leave, all the time, you and Harry could just leave me alone at any moment, and there's nothing I can _do_!" She turned around and fell into his arms. He held her with only a shadow of the awkwardness of his childhood, rubbing her back gently.

"I would never leave you on purpose," Ron said.

"I know," Hermione whispered, sniffling into his cloak.

"C'mon, let's get you home. You've had enough to drink tonight, eh?" He let her pull away and dry her eyes, then wrapped one arm around her shoulder and directed her towards the high street. She hiccoughed a few times and seemed unsteady.

"You've never held you liquor well," Ron said, half-amused.

"Shut up," Hermione grumbled. They stumbled down the high street and off a smaller road until they reached Hermione's house. Hermione opened the door and nearly fell into her living room, the effects of that last shot of firewhiskey fully setting in.

"Ron?"

"Mm?" Ron waved his wand and started a fire in the drafty fireplace.

"I think I had too much to drink," Hermione said, looking a bit green.

"Well, at least you can still grasp that concept," Ron said.

Hermione sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. Again. For getting drunk and - crying all over you. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."

"Don't worry about it. Just don't think I'll be holding your hair back over the toilet any time soon," Ron said, attempting to turn the conversation away from the depressing road it had gone down earlier.

"I've got a Sober up potion in the kitchen," Hermione said. Ron went to find it and brought it back to her in a cup of tea. Hermione drank the tea and started to look a bit less rosy.

"Better?" Ron asked.

"No," Hermione said.

Ron suddenly was very aware that he was sitting very close to Hermione on the couch; his head felt light and his hands tingled. He jumped up awkwardly. "Well, I guess I'd better go," he said.

"No!" Hermione said sharply. "I mean..." She sighed, looking down at the tea in her hands. "I don't want you to go yet."

Ron sat down again. "I don't want to go yet either."

"How about you just - you just stay here?" Hermione said hopefully. "You can hide out... just don't go into work tomorrow, they'll never find you..."

"Hermione," Ron said gently. "You're worse than my mum." Hermione stared at him, her eyes sad and half-lidded.

"Just promise me something, all right?" she said.

"What?"

"Promise me... promise me you'll come home." She looked up at him searchingly, leaning forward and taking one of his hands.

"Well... I..." he stammered as she leaned close. "I can't... I can't really promise..."

Her other hand went up to his cheek. "Promise me?"

"I promise," he whispered, and then their lips met tentatively, softly, uncertainly. He ran his hand up her arm and cupped her cheek, his lips exploring hers. The kiss was warm and gentle and not as awkward as one would think, their noses brushing together between them.

Her lips opened and allowed his tongue passage into her mouth, and the kiss became heated and almost frantic, as if both were searching for something they couldn't quite capture. Hermione felt as though time were slipping away and she was unable to make it stop.

Ron trailed kisses down her jawline and throat, stopping at her collarbone to suck the skin there. She wove her hands into her hair and pulled his head back up to crush her lips against his.

"I'm leaving in the morning," he gasped against her. This time it was a question, a request for permission.

She opened her eyes, forcing down a rush of overwhelming sadness. "I know."

A/N: This is a one-off, but if I get a good response, I may consider a sequel.


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